


Drowning

by NightDragon5656



Category: Voltron - Fandom
Genre: Ha that’s the first one, I don’t even know, M/M, Omg this is depressing, What am I doing with my life?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-02 21:17:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17271281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightDragon5656/pseuds/NightDragon5656
Summary: Keith is suffering silently. No-one is noticing and that’s causing more pain for the Red Paladin, can anyone notice in time to save him? It’s like he’s drowning slowly, feeling his lungs fill up excruciatingly slowly and causing him to curl further in on himself. As his weight drops, so does his sanity and the blood cascading from his wrists. How long will it be before he stops taking it slow? How long until he decides it’s enough? Can anyone get there in time?





	1. Above A Cliff

He ran to his room as fast as he could, barely holding back the wild tears that stung his eyes, making it hard to see clearly. The only things he could make out being blurred forms and colours. Alas, most of this place was white, empty, which made it hard for him to discern what was what in his state. The boy practically skidded to a halt on tired feet before his door and hurriedly typed in the code on the pin pad that gave him entry into his sullen room. His hands shook as he did it, but managed it in the end. 

It was so empty.

Sure, shelves did adorn the metal walls of his room, but nothing stood on them. Not even a book; not a single object sat on the shelves. They were merely just there and overlooked the rest of the room with nonexistent yet still scrutinising eyes. 

Unlike the other Paladins, Keith hadn’t repainted the walls in his favourite colour. He didn’t think he had one. It could be red or black though, but he didn’t find it inviting to be surrounded of colours that are connotations of death. So they still stood grey and cold. 

Empty. 

He had classic cotton, white bed sheets and pillow made neatly from this morning. He had woken up extremely early, well, compared to everyone else that is. What else had he to do apart from make his bed? It was always ruffled and messy, he moved too much in his sleep due to his nightmares. He could have actually done many things aside from making his bed, but he was too drained and didn’t want to leave his room. In fact he hadn’t actually wanted to leave his bed. He’d wanted to stay in it forever, just not waking up. 

Except he had, and he knew that there was nothing he could do that would make him sleep again. Correction, nothing safe. If he swallowed sleeping pills he’d probably try to take in the whole bottle. That way he’d never wake up. 

His insomnia was getting worse. 

Where in the early stages of it, he would get around five hours of sleep, now, he would get three on a good night. 

It was what caused the dark bags under his eyes and the paler skin than normal. It was what made Pidge look chipper compared to him. It didn’t help that he was hardly eating anymore, and if he was it was only a little. Even then, he would sneak to his room later and force the contents of his stomach out into the toilet by thrusting his fingers down his throat, triggering his gag reflex. 

As he did it the voices would whisper to him, short comments that encouraged him to do it more. 

You’re not good enough. You never will be. Not unless you loose more weight. Loose it. Loose it. Loose it. 

Keith had realised soon after this had started that he was loosing more than his weight. He was loosing his sanity. He’d asked the others whether they could hear the voices too. Whether they would hear voices insulting them, but none of the others had understood what he was talking about, so he left them standing there in confusion. He’d just gone straight back into his room and lay there staring at the ceiling. 

After he was done throwing up, he would stand and observe himself under critical eyes in the mirror, and he watched the static people do the same from behind him. It was a shock at first, but now he didn’t really mind it. He only did mind when they would close in on him, backing him into a corner and throw insults and threats at him. 

They would disappear afterwards, but it always left him shaken up and unable to encounter anyone for at least a few hours. Not that he wanted to anyway. 

Those thoughts faded in his head as he rushed into his bathroom, searching desperately for his small black pouch. He found it hidden under the sink and opened it hurriedly. His right hand dove inside and fished around for an extra sharp one. Finding it, he pulled it out and quickly looked over the gleaming razor before switching hands and bringing it to his right wrist. 

Keith instantly calmed down as he drew it across his wrist, feeling warm blood drip out as he pressed down with more pressure. He did it again but closer to his hand this time and put on more pressure still, drawing more and more blood as he did this repeatedly. 

He knew it wasn’t healthy, of course it wasn’t. He almost dies of blood loss each time he does it. But it calms him and gives him a sense of escapism, it also brings him closer to death which makes a smile grow on his lips that blossoms into a full grin as he stares down at his wrist. 

It has gotten even thinner. 

He can’t help but feel both anger and a little bit of joy at the sight. He had slimmed down again! 

But it wasn’t enough. 

Not nearly enough. 

Keith pulled out the scale from beneath his sink and turned it on before taking off all extra weight-clothes, shoes-and stands on it. He was happy to see it had gone down but he still hadn’t reached his target. 

Suddenly he remembered his wrist and hurried out of the bathroom to collect his first aid box that sat next to his bed, regularly used. But not before staring down at it. The dark red blood seemed to shimmer in the lights overhead, dripping quietly onto the white floor, discolouring it in a satisfying way. 

After he was done admiring his work, he set about picking up the first aid kit. He opened it and found he had only one bandage left. How hadn’t he seen this last time? He was stupid, idiotic, worthless, a waste of space and time, a burden. 

Muttering nonsense that even he didn’t understand under his breath, Keith started disinfecting the wounds and then began wrapping up his wrist with the bandage, before deciding he needed something under it and taking it off. Dark blood had nearly socked through already in that short amount of time he had had it on. 

Keith hurried about his room, trying to find something to keep his disgusting blood from showing. Everything about him was disgusting, it needed to be hidden. The Red Paladin found what he was looking for and placed it on his wounds with a small hiss, then he wrapped the bandage around it. Keith got dressed in long everything, well apart from his boxers, they were a normal length. Skinny jeans that weren’t so skinny anymore due to his weight loss were put on, a long sleeved top that hung off his thin frame and hid his clearly visible ribs from view as well as the many scars that covered his arms from his razor sessions also now adorned his frame. He had stopped wearing skin tight shirts since a while ago. His classic red and white jacket was flung on him and shoes were put on last, after black socks of course. 

He reached up and, grabbing a hairbrush from his bedside table, started brushing his mullet and teasing all the knots out. 

After a short while of that, he put it down and walked out of his room. He needed more bandages.


	2. Falling Down

The empty corridors unnerved him slightly, and thoughts kept pummelling the back of his mind ruthlessly, trying to get his attention. But one stood out above the rest, causing his ever frowning migraine to increase its throbbing. Of course it was the same thought he always got, the one he couldn’t shake. 

Was he being followed?

Despite another corner of his mind telling him not to do it, that it was stupid, he turned his head slightly so that he could see behind him. 

No-one was there. 

Nothing. 

Yet that feeling still crept into the crevices of his mind and loomed there like an ever growing storm brewing on the horizon. 

***

“Keith?”

The Red Paladin jumped obviously and turned around with fear stricken violet eyes only to find Lance standing there, confusion painted clear onto his features. He quickly schooled his expression into one of impassiveness before looking right into the Blue Paladin’s questioning ocean blue eyes that swam with innocence and light. It contrasted starkly to the darkness contaminating everything about Keith; his mind, his body, even his very soul had fallen to the darkness. 

“What?”

“A-are You alright? You seem a little off...”

Keith clicked his tongue and turned back the way he was heading. He took one step forward before stopping and saying loud enough for Lance to hear “I’m fine. Nothing’s wrong.” It occurred to him that he was as much trying to convince Lance that as he was himself. 

The older boy continued walking away but heard no movement behind him which caused Keith to turn around again. 

“What.” He said it more forcefully this time, ensuring he got a reaction out of the younger. 

“Nothing, just... are you okay? You seem really distant, even for you, Mr Emo. Haha...” His feeble attempt at a joke only hardened the other’s eyes and Lance faltered noticeably before stepping forward himself and raising his voice once more. “No, sorry. But I’m serious, you’re being weird. You look awful, and... and not... right.”

“Look, if you’re just going to insult me then—“

“No! I’m worried about you, we all are. You say you’re okay but we can tell that you aren’t. We’ve been your friends for years now, come on Keith, trust us for once in your life!”

Pain flashed across Keith’s face before he turned and said quietly “I can’t trust anything anymore.” whilst walking away, this time not even slowing down for Lance’s persistent words that were called after him in desperation. 

Lance’s voice carried after him but slowly faded away and Keith was thankful that he had not tried to follow him. 

***

Upon entering the med-bay, Keith observed that Coran was busying himself by fiddling with the cryopods. His forced concentration was only broken when Keith spoke up, voice rather small compared to what it usually is. 

“Coran, do we have any spare rolls of bandages?” 

It definitely caught the Altean’s attention as he seemed almost glad for the distraction and cheered up immediately, saying, “We do, my dear boy. But may I ask, what are they for?” 

Keith felt dread pool in his stomach and he shifted on his feet nervously. “I hurt my shoulder during the last battle. I thought it’d get better without it but it seems some bandaging is required.”

“Well, why don’t you hop into the cryopod, my boy? It could fix you up right away, or in a few dobashes at least. Or vargas... it’d depend on the injury... Or I could just take a look myself, that may be easier.” 

“Uh, no I’m good Coran, thanks for the offer though. It’s not bad but I’d rather be on the safe side for these things anyway.”

Coran seemed to consider his response and gave him an uncharacteristically stern look before he seemed to cave in and pointed wearily to a small cabinet to his left. “In there is where the bandages are kept. But we’re running out so only take one or two at most, please?” 

The internal panic didn’t make it onto his face as Keith walked slowly to the cabinet and reached up slightly to open it. 

A sharp intake of breath from Coran made Keith look at him worriedly, then he followed the older Altean’s eyes to his sleeve. Or where it would have been had it not fallen down his outstretched arm along with the bandages that he had so hurriedly and messily wrapped around his arms, revealing the many slices, old and new, he’d made.

Coran rushed forward surprisingly fast and caught his arm in an iron grip. Keith tried to pull away but to no avail whilst Coran stared intently at his cuts. 

“C-Coran, let go. Please.”

The last word was more of a feeble plead than anything, and revealed the nervousness that bordered fear that filled his body and mind. It revealed the tears that stung his eyes from both pain physically and mentally. 

“My boy... what... what have you done?”

The words struck something in Keith, something buried deep down and nearly forgotten. It caused the Red Paladin to fall to his knees and curl in on himself in a form of protection, his arm no longer in the grip of Coran. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sor—“ 

His mantra-like words were cut off when footsteps were heard walking into the room. Keith didn’t need to hear the voice to know that Shiro had just walked into the med-bay. 

“Keith, what..?”

Shiro’s worried voice tore through the sounds of Keith’s shaky sobs and the footsteps sped up. Keith felt a warm hand on his shoulder, warm breath now fanning his face as Shiro bent down to peer into Keith’s tear drowned features. 

After realising that Keith was too racked with sobs to actually formulate words, Shiro looked up to Coran and questioned him with a look. 

“His wrists, Shiro.”

Sure enough, Keith’s hands were pulled from where they were shielding his face and pulled towards the older man. His sleeves were pulled up his arms, no longer concealing the tens of slices that tainted his pale skin. 

“Oh my god. Keith...” Arms wrapped around the trembling boy and he leaned into the touch, throwing away his pretence of distance and solidarity. A warm hand rubbed circles into the middle of Keith’s back rhythmically. 

Keith began his mantra again, faster and desperation entering his voice at high levels. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—“ He didn’t stop until a hand covered his mouth and Shiro whispered 

“Sshh... Keith calm down.”

The boy did and for the first time in ages, he fell into a dreamless sleep, undisturbed by nightmares that didn’t invade his mind. 

***

Shiro held the boy for a long while after his trembling form had gone limp. And all the while Coran stood watching, a worried look present on his face that Shiro understood bordered a state of panic. 

It was the same as him. 

With a low, quiet voice he whispered orders to Coran. “I’m taking Keith to his room, once he wakes up I’ll discuss what’s going on. I want a cryopod ready for him and if he fights it, we have to sedate him. It’s for his own good.” Shiro took a deep breath before continuing. “Please notify the others to what’s gone on here, I’ll join you in a few dobashes.”

Then the two parted ways, Shiro with Keith limp in his arms, and Coran who was twirling his moustache in worry whilst running off to the meeting room, preparing to call the other Paladins and Allura to it. He would have to steel himself to the task of informing the others about Keith. 

***

Shiro entered the code next to Keith’s door and stepped in. 

It smelt of fresh blood.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m sorry my chapters are always so short, but trust me when I say I’m going to have a gruelling session where I make long chapters for each of my stories.


End file.
